


The Unexpected Alpha

by MadnessofVoid



Series: Sterek Bingo 2017 [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Nobody is Dead, Other, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Season/Series 03, Season/Series 01, Sterek Bingo 2017, but no nogitsune, since kira is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11026572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadnessofVoid/pseuds/MadnessofVoid
Summary: Panic soon began to bubble as he began to realize something: Peter bit him. Was still biting him. He could become a werewolf.If the bite didn't kill him.





	The Unexpected Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> My final piece for Sterek Bingo. I was surprised I even had any more fic writing steam in me after the monster known as my Derek Returns piece. But yay! My last new piece before I continue fixing some of my favorite old fics from tumblr and post them here! 
> 
> The theme for this one is, well, Alpha. If the title says anything. XD

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't the plan. This _wasn't the plan_!

 

The Molotov was supposed to ignite after Allison shot it. It was supposed to explode and Peter was supposed to be burnt to a crisp for a second time. Stiles and Jackson had followed the instructions Lydia had given. Followed them _perfectly_!

 

So why didn't it work? Why didn't it ignite?

 

Stiles barely could take a step back, thinking about bailing out of there since he was a squishy human, when Peter, in all his ugliness, lunged at him. He couldn't even get out a scream before he found himself pinned down...and Peter gnawing at his arm.

 

“STILES!” he heard Scott cry in horror.

 

Probably would be the best time to make some sort of distressed sound, so Scott would know he was alive. But Stiles was too busy trying to get off the hundreds of pounds worth of nasty werewolf off of him. Which, as expected, wasn't going too well. Punching an unresponsive animal could only go so far.

 

Panic soon began to bubble as he began to realize something: Peter bit him. Was _still_ _biting_ him. He could become a werewolf.

 

If the bite didn't kill him.

 

That's what did it for him. What made him start to bellow out in agony and fear. What made him start to bawl for his life. He was dead. He was so very, very dead. Peter was going to either tear off his arm and he was going to die from blood loss, or the bite was going to reject him and he was going to likely die painfully.

 

Suddenly, the weight was off of him with a massive swoosh. He gasped for air, chest heaving and eyes bulging. Was it Scott? Did Scott get Peter off? Had to be Scott. No way would good ol' Scottie let him die!

 

But when Stiles managed to sit up, babying his arm greatly, and glanced around...it wasn't Scott fighting Peter. Scott and Jackson were just standing there, gaping in terror. Allison and her dad were frantically searching for something unknown that must've been dropped at some point.

 

So that meant...

 

Stiles nearly fell right onto his back again out of the sheer shock of seeing _Derek Hale_ fighting his uncle. Stiles knew this was hard for Derek. Peter was the only family, the only _pack_ , Derek had left in the world. But he also understood Derek a little more since they discovered that Peter was the alpha. Understood that, even if it put himself in danger, he would do anything to protect someone who was at a disadvantage. Like when he dragged himself against glass at the hospital to distract Peter from Stiles.

 

Seeing Derek fight his only living relative in an attempt to save Stiles...

 

“S-Sc-Scott!” Stiles finally sputtered out, the initial shock now gone. “ _Help him_!”

 

Immediately, Scott leaped into action, shaking away his own shock. He tackled Peter off of Derek, snarling as loudly as possible. Derek hopped back to his feet, taking a quick breather before he hopped right back into the fight.

 

The power struggle was going to get nasty. It was painfully obvious. Peter _needed_ to go. Damn to hell with Scott's idea of keeping this monster alive!

 

Stiles erratically began searching around him, wondering if what the Argents were looking for was a weapon. Something loaded with wolfsbane, maybe. Would make sense. What didn't make sense was that fact that Mr. Argent didn't have anything else on him. Maybe he wasn't planning on killing Peter, either? Maybe he was planning on just slowing him down?

 

That's when it hit Stiles. Kate. _Kate_ likely had something on her. If she could burn down an entire family, some who were human...

 

“Allison!”

 

She perked her head up, panic all across her face. Stiles forced himself onto his feet, which was far more difficult than he ever imagined with just one arm. He ran over to her (more like limped, but details), and gripped at her shoulder real tight. Tighter than he ever expected to. Maybe the turn was already happening...

 

No time for that thought now. He had a mission to accomplish!

 

“Where's Kate?! She came with you, right?!”

 

Allison nodded, eyes haunted. “She's dead, Stiles...”

 

“And I would feel sorry for you if she hadn't murdered an entire family that hadn't done anything. Where -”

 

“Don't feel sorry for me. She deserved it.”

 

He sputtered, startled by the response. It only derailed him for a split second before he went back on track. “Okay. So no remorse. Got it. Now, since there is no remorse, you wouldn't mind telling me where she is, would you? She might have something I could use to take down Peter.”

 

“Can you even fire a gun?”

 

“Son of a cop. Son of the _sheriff_ , if we wanna be more specific.”

 

With an eye roll, she pointed towards the hull of a house. “In there. But I don't think you'll find anything other than a gun.”

 

The 'you never know' was left on the tip of his tongue. He abandoned those outside and rushed the best he could into the house. The minute he stepped inside, he heard gunshots and roars from the alpha. Guess Mr. Argent found what he dropped. But, judging by the continuous snarls and roars, it wasn't doing much. Just slowing Peter down.

 

_He needs to be **stopped**. Not just slowed..._

 

He found Kate's body almost instantly, holding his breath so he wouldn't lose his lunch. She didn't stink yet, too early for that, but the sight of her and all that blood was...

 

Maybe he should reconsider his plans of following in his father's footsteps.

 

He crouched down, searching her body for what he hoped was there. There was a shotgun on the floor, which was expected. Shotguns had too much of a kick for him, however. He needed something easier to handle. A pistol would do. A pistol with _wolfsbane_ bullets.

 

“Please have it. Please, for the love of god, have it!”

 

He almost shrieked with joy when he found not only a pistol on her person, but that it was loaded with those dark blue tipped bullets that nearly killed Derek weeks prior. Scrambling, he bolted out the front door, pistol poised. It was going to be incredibly difficult for him to fire with one hand, but he was going to have to manage. Especially with a loose and uncontrollable werewolf wreaking havoc.

 

As he stood on the porch, hand shaking, he surveyed the scene before him. Mr. Argent continued to fire at Peter, despite the fact that nothing was happening. Allison had joined her father, dried tears caked on her cheeks. Jackson had taken refuge behind the Jeep, cowering and likely crying. Scott was lying on the ground, groaning in pain. And Derek...

 

Peter was going to town on his nephew. The urge to kill burning in his eyes.

 

This was it. No turning back. Now or never.

 

Stiles exhaled shakily, unlocking the safety and cocked the gun. He waited for an opportunity, remembering the lessons he took from his dad and the others at the station. No collateral. No one else wounded. Only the target.

 

He waited and waited until Peter glanced behind him at Mr. Argent, who was reloading his weapon. Why Peter was distracted, Stiles would never know. But it gave him the opportunity he was looking for. A clear shot for his head.

 

The sound of the weapon in Stiles' hand going off echoed through the trees.

 

The sound of Peter's body thumping onto the ground also echoed.

 

Then, silence.

 

And darkness.

 

Silence and deep darkness.

 

**~+~**

 

When Stiles woke up, he was in bed, all nice and tucked in. Was a bit weird since he hadn't been tucked in since his mom was alive. It was nice. Felt real cozy. Hell, he was ready to fall right back to sleep! Until he realized that his room was full of people.

 

Scott, Allison, Jackson, Mr. Argent, and Derek were spread out in the small room. Mr. Argent took hold of his desk chair, while Scott and Allison were on the floor. Jackson was leaning against a corner, head drooping as if he was ready to pass out. Derek had taken his seat at the foot of the bed, looking almost terrified meshed with intense guilt.

 

It was sweet and all but...

 

“Why are all of you creeping in my room?”

 

If he wasn't still so groggy, he would've laughed at the over the top reactions everyone had. But, alas, he was comfy and sleepy. No laughing right now.

 

Scott swooped in, eyes darting around with worry. He didn't say anything. Just grabbed Stiles' arm and started unwrapping bandages. Huh. Where did those come from? Must've been put on him when he was out like a light.

 

He started to wake up little by little with each bit of bandage that was pulled away. His stomach sank as he knew what was going to not be found. He already knew what happened. Could smell it. Could hear it. To see it would be the final nail in the coffin. A coffin he had no idea how to hide from his father.

 

When the bandage was fully taken away...there was nothing but a healthy arm. No bite. No blood. Just a clean arm that hadn't suffered nearly being torn off.

 

Werewolf. Stiles was a _werewolf_.

 

He heaved a sigh, dragging his covers over his head. He didn't want to look at anyone. Didn't want to face them. Because if he continued to do so at the moment...he would collapse. Just like how his normal life had.

 

“We're calling for a truce.” came Mr. Argent's voice somberly. “My wife doesn't agree with it, and certainly my father will soon arrive for revenge...but know that Allison and myself are on your side. I keep to the code. None of you have done anything wrong.”

 

Stiles scrunched up his face, confused. “Good to hear. So why are you telling me this? Just a small token of shitty comfort for a shitty situation?”

 

He could hear Jackson scoff. The eye roll, too. “Don't you know, dumbass?”

 

With the strength he could muster (the strength of pettiness), Stiles slipped one of his arms out from under his covers and flipped off the asshole. Why was he even here? He didn't like Stiles! He should just leave and stop bugging everybody!

 

“Jackson, he _doesn't_ know.” hissed Allison a little harshly, but also sadly.

 

That's when he knew something was up. Something more than him being turned.

 

He lowered the covers, brows furrowed and curiosity piqued. No one would look him in the eye. They all were shifting uncomfortably. Scott and Derek reeked of guilt. Especially Derek. It was like they all had some dirty secret they didn't want Stiles to know. That just made his stomach shrivel up and vanish into the abyss.

 

“Guys...what don't I know?”

 

No response. Just more smells of guilt. Which, to be honest, Stiles had no idea wolves could smell emotions. This was entirely a new ground for him. It would be fascinating... _if_ he wasn't dreading learning what he didn't know.

 

“Seriously guys, what don't I know? Am I fail-wolf? That isn't a surprise! I failed as a human! Or am I dying and the whole werewolf thing is fake? Do I have to tell my dad goodbye and that he is going to be alone in the world? What don't I know?!”

 

Scott and Derek flinched at the volume of Stiles' voice. Stiles flinched at the feeling of what assumed to be his claws popping out. He shuddered at the intense feeling of it, burying his hands right back under his blankets in order to hide them. He noticed that Scott and Derek shuddered as well – eyes flickering between colors.

 

And that's when he figured it out. Figured out what he didn't know.

 

He shot Peter. He _killed_ Peter. That meant only one thing:

 

_He_ was _the alpha_ now.

 

“Please don't tell me that I'm gonna be as ugly as Peter.” he joked tensely. “I don't think I could handle turning from awkward, yet adorable, deer to... _that_.”

 

He managed to get a sad smile from Allison, a humored smirk from Mr. Argent, and an eye roll from Jackson. He even got _Derek_ to grin a little!

 

Scott was the only one not really appreciative of the joke.

 

“Stiles, you can't be joking about this! This is serious! You're an alpha! What are you supposed to do!?” Scott hissed angrily.

 

“Uh, figure it out? I mean, I helped you find control. I'll just do the same with myself.”

 

“I don't think it's going to be that easy...”

 

“It's not.”

 

Derek's voice cutting in seriously caused Scott to glower. Like he wasn't happy with Derek being there at all. Like Derek was a thorn in their side. And, in the past, Stiles would be inclined to agree (because his loyalty was first and foremost to Scott, despite how wrong he could be), but right now was not the time. Now was the time to put aside differences. Because Stiles was terrified, and he sure as hell wanted someone who was familiar with werewolf politics. Possibly could help with control exercises that were better than hucking lacrosse balls at the face.

 

And, whether anyone liked it or not, that person was Derek Hale.

 

Stiles leaned forward, ignoring Scott, and got a little too close to Derek. Didn't touch him. Knew how Derek felt about that. But he was in his space. In the bubble. Derek didn't look too keen about it, but wasn't going to do anything about it. For now.

 

“I'm guessing you're gonna help me figure this out? I mean, sure, not excited about it. None of us really are. But, to be honest, I need somebody who knows a bit about...wolfy politics. Control, too, because I'm pretty sure some of my tactics used for Scott won't work on me. And that somebody is you. So...help me out? Pretty please?”

 

Derek sucked on his teeth, like this was the worst thing that could happen to him. Which, to be honest, was pretty close. Here was the twerp that killed his last family member, asking for help. Stiles didn't expect him to be kind. Didn't expect him to accept.

 

Though, Derek being here in the first place, among people that either hated him or wanted him dead...

 

It spoke volumes to his character. To who he was.

 

Stiles gained a mountain load of respect for the older wolf.

 

With a heavy sigh, and eyes boring into Stiles' soul, Derek nodded. Agreed silently to help out with Stiles' new wolfhood and alphaness. Stiles relaxed, feeling thankful for the help. Especially since he was scared to shit over every little thing going on.

 

“You can't have Derek help you!” argued Scott, his heart going haywire. “How are you going to explain this to your dad?! He's gonna want to know why you're hanging out with Derek now! Who, by the way, is still considered a fugitive!”

 

“Which he wouldn't be if we hadn't jumped to conclusions. Wouldn't be if you hadn't thrown him under the bus, and I went along with it.” Stiles growled.

 

He felt his eyes burn and he quickly closed them. He was _not_ going to be the type of alpha that was going to make the betas submit. Not like Peter. He exhaled slowly, hands shaking under the blankets. He continued to breathe evenly, until he felt like he could attempt talking again. But the eyes were to remain shut!

 

“Look...I get that you're worried. But I need someone who has been a werewolf longer than you to help me out, Scottie.”

 

“You weren't a werewolf when you helped me figure it out!”

 

“Lots of trial and error, Scott. It wasn't perfect. And, if we're gonna be honest, Derek did help out a little bit.”

 

“But - !”

 

“Would you two idiots stop arguing?” huffed Jackson in annoyance. “Stilinski is your alpha now. Aren't you supposed to, I don't know, submit to him and be a good little pup?”

 

“You have much to learn about werewolf politics, Jackson.” Mr. Argent chuckled. “I can already tell that Stiles isn't going to be that kind of alpha. Pretty sure we aren't going to have any problems with him in charge.”

 

“Just expect the usual shenanigans I get into normally.” Stiles admitted, hoping that didn't come off in a bad way.

 

Judging by the little chuckles he heard, he did good.

 

“Well, I'll leave you kids alone. You have a lot to talk about. Except you, Jackson. You're going home. And I expect you home in an hour, Allison.”

 

Jackson started to argue, but he was dragged out by the hunter with ease. Loudly, but with ease.

 

Once it was only Derek, Scott, and Allison left in the room with Stiles, he opened his eyes. They weren't burning anymore, so he hoped that they weren't fire red still. Judging by the reactions, they weren't. Thank god.

 

“So...um...guess we gotta figure some stuff out?”

 

Allison smiled, reaching up to pat his arm. “Yes we do.”

 

Stiles nodded, smiling back awkwardly. He had no idea how to do this. None whatsoever. Like with helping Scott, this was going to be a ton of trials and errors. But he hoped that the people sitting in the room with him now would be helpful to him. Be on his side through thick and thin.

 

Be his, dare he say, pack.

 

“First thing's first: we make sure that Derek's name is one hundred percent cleared.”

 

“That has been...” Allison cleared her throat, jaw clenching. “Arranged. Dad has been watching your dad for a bit now. Looks like the sheriff was investigating the Hale fire again. Learned of the necklace Kate gave me. Once he follows the tip of her being at the Hale house again...he'll find her and Derek will be cleared.”

 

“Oh. Well...” He turned to Derek with a thumbs up, feeling even more awkward now. “Congrats on not being wanted by the police anymore.”

 

Derek scowled, a hint of aggravation overpowering the underlining sense of relief. “Joyous.”

 

“Okay, second thing...Peter.”

 

“Taken care of. He will help clear Derek's name, too.” grumbled Scott.

 

Stiles whistled, grinning and impressed. “Wow.! Look at you guys! On a roll! And I didn't have to tell you what to do!”

 

Allison managed a dimple smile, also fighting back the urge to laugh. Derek rolled his eyes, which was to be expected. Scott...glared. He reeked of aggravation. It was making Stiles feel a little dizzy.

 

“Um...guess that's it for now. You can go home, Scott, Allison.” he said, stare focused on Derek.

 

“What about Derek?” huffed Scott.

 

“I wanna talk to him.”

 

“Gonna be best friends now?”

 

“If your attitude doesn't stop – maybe.”

 

And with that, Scott growled at the born wolf and stormed out of the room. Allison followed close behind, giving them both an apologetic glance as she left.

 

Now it was just Stiles and Derek.

 

The older wolf appeared strained. Like this was all too much for him. Which made all the sense in the world. His uncle had woken up from his coma, killed his sister, killed a bunch of other people, bit Scott, manipulated him, and now was dead. Not to mention that he was in the same space as the person that had killed said uncle. _And_ that person was now the alpha.

 

Shit was definitely piling upon the poor guy.

 

Stiles wriggled a hand out from under the covers, hovering it over Derek's shoulder. He waited to see if the other would move away, or even scowl at him for daring to think of touching him ever again. However, to his surprise, Derek leaned into the hand. His head fell into it, nuzzled at it briefly. Tension visibly bled out of Derek and he unleashed a shuddering sigh.

 

He smelled the salt before seeing the tears.

 

It was surreal to see Derek cry. Actually _cry_. Guess he could only hold back so much. Stiles had been there before. It hurt, ached, until you just exploded monumentally or quietly. And seeing Derek sob silently against his hand? It hurt, ached, too.

 

Carefully, he pulled Derek closer, freeing his other arm from the blankets in order to wrap it around the born wolf. Derek didn't shy away. Just drooped into Stiles' hold. Shook in it. Shed tears into it. Stiles lost track of the time. Didn't matter when he was comforting pack.

 

Pack.

 

Did Derek even want to be part of a pack that Stiles would be in charge of?

 

He did agree to help with control and teachings of how werewolves ran. But...be part of the pack?

 

“So...I guess this might be a bad time, but I probably shouldn't try to ignore it, so...um...do you want to be part of the pack?”

 

The other wolf jerked his head up, confusion all across his face. He didn't verbally say anything...but his eyebrows spoke for him. They asked 'You sure?' and 'I thought I was pack already? Am I not?' That, combined with the puffiness and redness of his eyes, was about the softest Stiles had ever seen Derek. For some reason, it made him smile.

 

“I'll take that as a yes. I mean, I should, anyway. I'd be stupid to not include you. This is your family's territory, you're the only residential born werewolf – I kinda need you to live through this. And make sure I'm in check. I really _really_ don't want to become Peter. No offense.”

 

Derek snorted, head plopping right back into the new wolf's chest, a low purr rolling out of his chest. Guess that meant no offense was taken. And that he was accepting Stiles as his alpha or something. Whatever it meant, it caused Stiles to purr back. Which, okay, were they werewolves or a were _kittens_? Wolves shouldn't purr! No matter how soothing the sound was.

 

In fact...all of this was soothing. Must be a pack thing. Stiles rubbed Derek's back, mind wandering to a million different things. All of which needed to be addressed. _Badly_.

 

Eh, it could wait.

 

No need to ruin the moment.

 

It would probably be the only time Derek friggin' Hale would allow Stiles, or anyone for that matter, to be this close to him. See him peeled back, exhausted, and raw. The alpha was going to take what peace he could get for now. Before they dealt with all the topics that had to be taken care of.

 

**~+~**

 

_Two Years Later..._

 

 

“Are you sure this place really doesn't have an alpha?”

 

“Yes, I'm sure! The Hale territory hasn't had an alpha since the fire that wiped most of them out. This land is ours for the taking.”

 

The betas weren't so sure about that. But...their alpha was their alpha, and no one questioned the alpha. The group wandered around the woods, moving in on the property that once held the Hale house. That was where they needed to go in order to claim this land as theirs. Where the center of the vacant territory was.

 

However, when they made it to where the husk of a home should be...

 

“That looks lived in...”

 

“Smells lived in, too.”

 

The alpha huffed, marching forward. “Doesn't matter! There is no alpha here! This land is _ours_!”

 

All of the sudden, something whooshed by the alpha's head, nearly taking it out. He jumped back, startled for only a moment before switching to fury. He snarled and flashed his fangs. The betas followed suit – fearful of what would happen if they didn't. The last time a beta didn't jump to after their alpha had been attacked...they were severely punished. No need for a repeat.

 

Before the alpha could demand the intruder to show themselves, they did.

 

All _fourteen_ of them.

 

Two of them were hunters, that was clear from the weapons they were packing. One was a cop, also obvious from the uniform and his firearm. One was a human woman in scrubs, a baseball bat tightly held in her hands. Two were human males, both walking up with lacrosse sticks poised for attack. One was a kitsune, her aura surrounding her as she gracefully twirled her blade. One was an unknown, but she had a hint of death to her scent.

 

The rest were werewolves. All but one bitten.

 

Most of the wolves had golden eyes – betas. One had brilliant blue eyes – that one was Derek Hale. It was no surprise that he had come back. Every pack had known that he had returned home. But he wasn't an alpha. He couldn't fight for his family's territory.

 

The wolf beside Hale, a young man with wild hair, a devious whiskey stare, skin pale as a ghost, and face decorated with moles...he didn't show his true eyes. He just stood dangerously close to Hale, smirking like a fox. There was obviously some sort of connection between this wolf and Hale. Something deep. Something strong. Something beyond pack.

 

“Who are you?!” hissed the alpha, infuriated by these intruders on the land he was going to claim.

 

The wolf by Hale barked out a harsh laugh, nudging Hale playfully. “Hear that, Der? They don't know who we are!”

 

“Word must not get out.” Hale grunted, nudging back almost in the same playful way.

 

“Idiots.” snorted the blue-eyed human with the lacrosse stick.

 

“Could've sworn the word was spread out.” sighed the darker human, lowering his stick a bit. “ I thought I had hit all the supernatural channels.”

 

“They must be new.” cooed the only female beta, something curt in her tone.

 

The alpha was not impressed, taking a step forward. One of the betas, the biggest of them all, moved forward as well, unleashing the most threatening growl the alpha and his pack had ever heard. Some of his betas began to cower, knowing full well that this one beta alone could mow them over.

 

Dotted wolf chuckled, patting the beta on the shoulder and sharing a wicked grin with him. Hale followed close behind, the phrase 'if looks could kill' enveloping him. The rest of the group swooped around Hale and this young wolf – loose but ready to fight back. It was an odd sight. Something none of them had seen before. Who were these people? Why were they acting as if they should be known? The only person there that was well-known was Hale. No one else.

 

Who were they?

 

“You look confused.” Hale's wolf mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Guess I should tell you who we are.”

 

He motioned down towards the hunters, his smirk growing. “Right there we have Chris and Allison Argent. Resident hunters of Beacon Hills. Also the last of the Argent line, since sissy Kate, mommy Victoria, and demon Gerard have all bit the dust. None of that was our fault, though. Well, except Gerard. He is _sorta_ our fault.”

 

At the name Argent, the invading pack's blood froze. This group had the _Argents_ with them? Who the hell were they?! How did they get _Argents_ to join forces with them?!

 

“Right here is the sheriff, and my daddy-o, John Stilinski. Next to him is Melissa McCall, or Mama McCall as we enjoy calling her. 'Cause she is definitely our mom. Then we have Jackson Whittemore and Danny Mahealani, humans that definitely can keep up with the rest of us. We have Jackson's girlfriend, Lydia Martin, our lovely and highly intelligent banshee. This here is Kira Yukimura, the most badass kitsune you will ever meet. Then there's her boyfriend, Scott McCall, yes, relation to Mama McCall, who was bitten by Peter Hale before he bit the dust. That was my fault.

 

This massive and awesome guy right here is Boyd. You don't get the pleasure of knowing his first name. No first name for you. Beside him is his gorgeous and future Catwoman girlfriend, Erica Reyes.”

 

“Excuse you! I _am_ Catwoman!” the beta called Erica humphed, pouting a little.

 

“I think he means for in the movies.” the big one, Boyd, said.

 

“Oh. Then yes. I _will_ be the future Catwoman. Anne Hathaway, eat your heart out!”

 

Boyd preened with pride, leaning down to press a kiss in her hair.

 

Hales wolf rolled his eyes fondly, gesturing towards a beta with a cherub face. “And here we have Isaac Lahey. He had an obsession with scarves.”

 

“I do not!” spat Isaac.

 

“Then, I guess you know my mate, Derek Hale. Kinda hard not to. He's a Hale, after all. He's werewolf royalty. This is also his family's land.”

 

Derek curled his lip back into a snarl, bones popping and crackling as he shifted.

 

“And who are you?” the alpha snapped, his annoyance levels rising.

 

Hale's wolf gave him a coy glance, his irritating smirk turning to a malicious one full of fangs. “Stiles Stilinski. Seventeen. Almost done being a junior in high school. Lacrosse player. Driver of a wonder Jeep. Mate of Derek Hale. Oh! Yeah!”

 

His whiskey eyes faded away into a deep, dark, fiery red.

 

“I'm the alpha. And I think it's rude that you didn't give any of us a ring to tell us that you were coming for a visit.”

 

The betas in the other pack started to back off slowly. Taking over was not worth dying at the hands of a pack of fourteen. Yes, they may have more numbers, but it was already apparent that they had the upper hand. On their territory, wolves, bitten or born, were stronger. A pack of fifty could be easily taken down by a pack of six. Especially on a land as old and ancient as the Hales.

 

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest – all joking he had shown prior shoved aside. Now, he was glowering with daggers. His jaw tightened and his hair bristled slightly. The betas in his pack shifted and rumbled lowly. The hunters, the sheriff, Mama McCall, the lacrosse players, and the kitsune raised their weapons – poised and threatening to be let loose. The banshee shivered, fighting back to open her mouth.

 

“You are encroaching on _our_ territory. _Derek's_ territory. Sure, he may not be the alpha, but this is Hale ground. And you will _not_ take it away from anyone.” Stiles boomed in a surprisingly even voice. “So...you have one of two options. Option one – you leave peacefully and no one gets hurt. Or...you could take option two – stay and try to steal what isn't yours and, I dunno, some of you may die. We try not to kill...but sometimes...it happens, sadly.”

 

The alpha scoffed. There was no way he was going to be intimidated by a pup!

 

“Huh. Was that a no just now?” hummed Stiles darkly.

 

“I think it was.” Kira replied, her aura growing.

 

“Shame. My son was handing you an olive branch of sorts.” the sheriff said in a matter-of-fact way.

 

“I will not be chased away by a mere pup!” growled the alpha. “I will take this territory from you and tear out your skinny neck!”

 

The faces of the opposing pack became one singular expression – 'You did not just say that about our alpha'. Alpha Stiles seemed amused, shrugging and tilting his head onto Hale's shoulder.

 

“Hey Lyds? What do you have to say about all this?”

 

There was a pause. Hung in the air like a disease. The pack of these grounds twitched...waiting for something. The alpha stood his ground, throwing haughty scoffs and not the least bit afraid. His betas, on the other hand, sensed what was coming. They backed away more, prepared to high tail it out of there. Land was not worth lives. _Hale_ land was not worth lives. Derek Hale was part of the oldest werewolf family in the history of wolves. Who knew what type of incredible strength his mate, this pale and frail looking thing, was capable of. If the alpha power hadn't poisoned this bitten wolf, hadn't tempted him to behave like a tyrant instead of someone who was more than willing to have his pack speak freely with him...

 

Suddenly, the banshee let out the most earth shattering scream known in creation.

 

The bellows of angry wolves and not wolves followed closely behind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk Sterek with me! 
> 
> youfancymemaddearie.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> Check out the Bingo event before it ends in a few days! 
> 
> sterek-bingo.tumblr.com


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